Three Men, Little Alvin and a Tonka Truck
by Angelinsydney
Summary: It's my usual offering of mystery/suspense/drama/laughter & love story thrown in for good measure. It's more than about romance, it's about love that runs deep in everyone of us! Enjoy the ride. This was dedicated to Hilary Parker.
1. Little Alvin and the Tonka Truck

**Here is the usual disclaimer:** I don't own Flashpoint, Mount Sinai Hospital and the company that makes Tonka Truck. Truth be told, I never owned one of those things. I'm only borrowing Spike and the original characters are figments of my very, very rich imagination. I love Macgyver so where possible I only write about keeping the peace, surviving and not a gun in sight, that's if I can help it.

I write about love, life and laughter. May your life be filled with those.

In the meantime enjoy the ride, it will be a wild one!

_**OH, swear word alert!**_

** Little Alvin and the Tonka Truck**

Little Alvin was five years _old_, literally for the Boy was old and wise for his age. He's the scion of one of the wealthiest men in the world. When he was born, he didn't just come out of his mother's womb with the proverbial silver spoon, he came into the world with three passports; American where his Father was a naturalised citizen; British where his long lineage begun from War of the Roses; and, French where his mother was a natural born citizen. How one can have three loyalties was anybody's guess but all three Governments did love to claim his family as their own.

It's interesting then that Little Alvin lives in an upper class estate in Toronto. Not in his 2,000 acres estate in the outskirts of London; not in his vineyard in the south of France; not in his mega mansion in upstate New York. He's here in a highly classified location in a mansion that could pass for a boutique motel on a triple acreage in the outskirts of Toronto. The property has its own helipad, a subterranean passageway between the main house and a getaway by the lake; and a panic room.

Here's why: a shift of seismic proportion has been happening in the Northern hemisphere. The economic, political and taxation landscape in Canada was making it very attractive for the world's super rich and famous; and the very super rich who quietly minded their own business types to pull up stumps and relocate to chilly, windy, cold as Canada. After all, heating bill wasn't a problem!

While politicians in other developed countries with crushing debt loads and economic stagnation have been greedily taxing their richest citizens, Canada was reforming and lowering its taxes. At the same time, political instability in the Middle East and Asia meant wealthy individuals are looking for a safe place to move their families; where they might have flocked to the U.S., the U.K. or Australia in the past, they now see Canada as the better option. Tax specialists don't call Canada "the Great White tax haven" and "Switzerland of the North" for nothing. So now it would seem, Little Alvin would be acquiring a fourth passport, if he hadn't already.

Little Alvin has everything a child could want, a socialite Mother who's never around to say "no". A Father who he only saw as a streaming online video feed that he once mistook him for Brad Pitt. He has servants galore who obeyed his every command. And a toy room that could rival a branch of Toys R Us. He had every widgets, gadgets and thingy-ma-giggy a boy could wish for but all he really loved to play with was an old Tonka Truck. Little Alvin has had it since he was three, a gift from someone very close to him. He told his Nanny that if his house ever burnt down to the ground all he'd take with him was his Tonka Truck because it was "priceless".

Little Alvin has no playmates his own age. He once told his minders he couldn't be bothered playing with kids who had no idea what real enjoyment was about. He knew "little people" in the exclusive kindergarten he attended but he didn't like playing with them because they're "spoiled brats" and "asses." He kept hearing those from his minders who never again said them in his presence especially after they were called to the Principal's Office.

Speaking of words, he wasn't allowed to swear but since the men swore a lot he told them that "if it's good enough for you, then it's good enough for me." One minder explained to him that it wasn't good form for a five year old to be saying things like, "fucking shit." Little Alvin replied with all seriousness, his arms across his chest, "not if you know what it means" and what was so wrong about a fox pooping, "A fox has to shit sometime."

The Boy was a funny philosopher. He once told his teacher, sorry "Class Facilitator" being the high faluting word, that he would one day rule the world and when that happens he would make "popcorn free for everyone". When the Class Facilitator asked why so, he said, "because popcorn is a happy food, and when people are happy they don't go to war." And he's probably right, too.

This little boy was one of a kind that one can't help but fall in love with him. Physically, he can only be described as adorable. Blue-eyed for starters, as blue as the sky on a clear day; a mop of blond curly tops; wise as a Wizard; and sweet as apple pie.

What was also very endearing about Little Alvin was how polite and kind he was, no thanks to his absentee parents. He was taught good manners and right conduct by his two minders; albeit with the exception of proper vocabulary. And no, they were not a figment of his very rich imagination, either.

These two men had been in the service of his family since the day his mother became pregnant with him; were there when he was delivered by Caesarean Section at Mount Sinai Hospital in the U.S of A.; were with him to every doctor and dentist's visits; went with him to Kindy and played with him when really they shouldn't, considering that in their chosen profession playing with client's kids was a "no, no." But they couldn't help it, Little Alvin was too adorable.

These men were wise men. They knew they couldn't _be t_here for him all the time, every minute, every second of the day so when they did do playtime, they did survival training. Little Alvin could teach an adult or two about urban warfare, and self-defence and most of all how to disappear. If Little Alvin's parents knew what these men were teaching their out of sight son they probably would have a fit so no one said a word.

It never occurred to him and his minders that one day, for real, they would be glad they did all that survival training.


	2. Don't Mess with Labalaba Temeura Leon

**You Don't Mess with Labalaba Temeura Leon: Nicknamed Ape Man**

Lab has been Alvin's minder since he was an embryo in his Mother's tummy. The retired NZ SAS was of Maori extraction, a man not to be trifle with. He didn't volunteer to join the Army in his youth. He was conscripted, sort of. Lab was a juvenile delinquent with charges as thick as a telephone book starting with "breaking and entering" and later graduating to "aggravated bodily harm." The Judge presiding over the ABH case said, "As an 18 year old there's no escaping prison but if you join the Army, I will waive the prison sentence".

Lab was a clever kid, if the choice was between six months in the joint or six months in the paddocks, the latter would be a walk in the park so he opted to do the bivouac, "No big deal," little did he know it would turn his life around. Lacking adult supervision in his teenage years, his Mother deceased, his Father in and out of jail and with no grandparents to give him a guiding hand, Lab fell into the ways of the urban jungle. _Everyman for himself._ Unable to cope with his wild ways, he was bounced from one relative to another more times than a Third World Government cheque was bounced.

Lab had to survive and this he did by doing what he knew best, intimidating people. But to be fair, Lab didn't need to touch you to rearrange your face. Upon seeing him, your face would rearrange itself - fear did it for you.

The Army did Lab a lot of good. It gave him structure and the security of mateship. But above all, it gave him a sense of fulfilment. The other thing the Army did for Lab was to give him an education. When he joined up, he could barely read and write but with the encouragement of his Platoon Leader, he persevered and finished High School by distance education with honours.

He'd been in the Army four years when he decided the regular gig wasn't doing it for him anymore, he needed a challenge. On his fifth year, he tried for NZSAS and passed selection on his first go. The Kiwi was nicknamed Ape Man by mates in the New Zealand Regiment for obvious reason. The Maori stood at 6'2 (188 cm) and weighed a whopping 195 pounds (88 kgs) of pure muscle. Add to this his refusal to allow any razor to come near his face; or a pair of scissor near his head and you have the sort of man you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

It used to annoy Lab that some people thought Special Forces men were nothing more than beasts in uniform. Strong and fast; and not much more. For starters, SF men had to have above average intelligence as a minimum requirement for the simple reason they've got to be able to think on their feet under severe stress. They needed to be able to calculate in their heads everything from how much plastique to use on a structure and where best to put them to cause maximum damage; to the best angle for effective use of fire power. They needed to be able to navigate using rudimentary maps and survive in the terrain they're in; for one thing, if you couldn't read a map you didn't pass the first day of selection. They needed to learn trauma medicine. So the idea that any dumb ass can be SF was plain stupid. It doesn't annoy Lab anymore he would just challenge them to a game of Sudoku.

Lab wouldn't have left the Regiment at 35, not by choice. But he sustained an injury after an incursion into enemy territory in the Sudan that he had no choice but to resign his Commission. He could have gone back to his Army Unit but what was the fun in that! The fun was in an offer he couldn't refuse. He was recruited by a consulting firm to be the bodyguard to the wife of one of the richest men in the world. The pay was astonishing. The amenities even better; seriously, paid vacation in the Riviera on a cruiser, anyone? You'd have to have a hole in the head not to take the job offer. But he didn't count on it being the most mind numbing job there ever was.

He lost count of all the "dumb asses" he had to meet and greet. He'd do pretty much anything for Mr and Mrs of the Manor but he wouldn't carry their briefcases or shopping bags to them, "I'm not a valet. I need my hands free to protect you and I wouldn't be able to do that if my hands were full."

It was the arrival of Little Alvin that changed everything for Ape Man. He can still recall the day the wee child arrived home from the hospital all wrapped up in pashmina, whatever that was. The Nanny did everything to make this wee baby happy but he wasn't. He didn't like the bouncing crib, the flashing mobile, the down lights, and the music. He didn't care for the muslin sheets and the palatial room. This baby cried all day, all the time and the nanny tore her hair out.

Lab didn't know how he knew, he just knew. The baby didn't want anything, Baby Alvin just wanted to be held. Lab knocked on the nursery door and asked the Nanny to bring him the baby pouch. He put the baby in it, strapped him to his chest and the baby went out like a light. He reckoned it was his time in Third World countries that brought him the realisation that babies didn't need much. They only wanted milk, a cuddle, a change and to be sung to, so Little Alvin went to sleep to the haunting melody of New Zealand other national hymn, "Pokarekare Ana" the first 12 months of his life. And truth be told, Lab sang beautifully.

It wasn't unusual back in the day to find Lab walking the grounds of the large estates with a baby strapped to him, like a kangaroo with her young. The bond between minder and child was strong from the start. Lab had a chance at love once but lost it when he chose the Regiment over family life. He's now an orphan so he's got no one but himself. This wee baby, though not his own flesh and blood he regarded as his own nevertheless.

But the time of reckoning was coming. The billionaire Father has given Lab his marching orders to give way for a younger man. Like SF men and women, bodyguards were supposed to be young, strong and able. And a 40 year old man just didn't cut it anymore.


	3. Adam Lewis: Call Sign Hawk

**Adam Lewis: Call Sign Hawk**

Hawk joined the household staff at the same time Ape Man did. He was a Red Cap, he belonged to the Parachute Regiment of the British Military but that wasn't why he was hired. It was his stint with the Army Air Corp that got him this retirement job of sort. His skill made him one of the most highly decorated helicopter fighter pilots in the world.

He has flown every helis ever built: Black Hawk, Chinook , Gazelle, Lynx, Sikorsky and the last seven years in the Army he joined the elite club flying the Apache AH MK1. The most amazing helicopter ever built for wartime. The Apache looked ugly and menacing, it actually looked like a giant robotic mosquito and what every insurgents in the world hoped to blast out of the skies. The most technically advanced chopper in the world was also the most difficult to fly. Only the best of the best got to fly it. It was this distinction that got "Hawko" this well paid gig.

Adam had a middle class English background. He was raised in a cookie cutter house in the suburb, with an older brother and a younger sister. Well looked after by a stay-at-home Mum and Dad who worked as a mid-level executive. Lewis in the middle could have been anything he wanted, anything. The above average intelligence would have made it possible for him to become a successful doctor, engineer or lawyer. But young Adam only wanted to be with the Parachute Regiment like his Grandfather who told him glory stories of the war days. After High School, he enlisted just as Operation Desert Storm was being conceived in the West Wing of the White House. One could say that Adam didn't have to face war, he choose it.

Physically, Adam Lewis wasn't a bad looker but you really wouldn't want to bump into him in broad daylight if you weren't sober and in full possession of all your senses. He was red-haired, pale as ale and as paper thin as they come. His second name could easily have been "Casper". If not for a smattering of freckles on his face and shoulder, and red hair on his head, he'd be invisible to the naked eye. Adam was as tall as Lab but looked taller because he didn't have girth to distract the eye.

Hawko, as mates in the Military called him, was a study in contradiction. He flew the most complex helicopter for a living but painted landscapes and portraits on his downtime. He was happiest when holding a paint brush in front of an easel, covered in oil paint.

He was also a man of few words. He conveniently forgot to outgrow the "grunting" phase of his teenage years. The household has learned very quickly to interpret the intonation of his grunts. A sharp "Um" meant "Don't do it again." An upward tone of "Ummmm" meant "Please explain." A downward tone "Umm" meant "Let me think about that." And a sing song "Uhum" meant "I agree."

The household staff believed Hawko could do Morse Code with the letters "U" and "M." One actually told him once, "You'd put Sesame Street out of business mate." One would think that a man with above average intelligence could have seen fit to add to his vocabulary, but he reasoned that if two letters would do the trick why bother adding to it.

Hawko did things over and beyond the call of duty. He was meant to fly the family in their latest Bell Piper Heli, but it actually just meant Baby Alvin and Lab. It was the most mind numbing job he ever had, in fact he worried that he wasn't getting any flying time to keep his skills sharp. To solve this problem, the three of them flew everywhere whenever possible. It made it difficult when most places had no helipads on which to land. On a dare one day, he suggested to Ape Man that perhaps he could fast rope down with Baby Alvin. Why not, it shouldn't be a problem, "keep my skills sharp too." So Baby Alvin was strapped to Ape Man's back one day on a doctor's visit and they did the unthinkable. It would have gone unnoticed by authorities until emergency services received five 911 calls about a "heli flying too low to the ground". It didn't impress anyone.

Adam was Alvin other Father Figure. As he got older; and acquired more balance and coordination, the wee one went everywhere perched on either Hawko's shoulders or head. Adam has five nieces and no nephew and will likely not have a child of his own. Relationships didn't interest him, it's not to say he didn't enjoy liaisons with women. He did, very much so, he just didn't liked being attached.

As quiet as Adam was, he did have a few words he liked to say every now and again, they're just not printable so to speak and he mostly said them in high pressure situation like when being fired upon with a ground to air missile, or when people really got up his nose. And it's interesting that there must be lots of these "idiots" about because Little Alvin kept learning a few choice words from him. Words Lab kept trying to "wean" Little Alvin of.

For Hawko, the time of reckoning has also come, for he too received his marching orders from Little Alvin's billionaire Father. Like all pilots flying all the best machines in the air, the family needed someone younger and smarter. A man of 40 just didn't cut it anymore.


	4. It's Quiet in the Streets of Toronto

**It's Quiet in the Streets of Toronto**

The SRU was experiencing a bit of a lull, it's all quiet in the streets of Toronto, which made everyone think in the back of their mind, "there's a storm a'comin".

Sgt Parker walked into the middle of a workout with a wide grin and an armful of files. "It's nice to have some peace and quiet, so guys, time to catch up on your reports." It broke peace and quiet in record time, "Quit the groanin' and the moanin'. Shower, change and get your butts in the briefing room in 10." Everyone hated this part of the job, Scarlatti ever the wishful thinker suggested, "Boss, let's hire someone to do this for us full-time. It'd be money well spent."

"You wish," said the Boss adding sternly, "If you're not there in 10, Scarlatti, I'm sin binning you to do inventory by yourself." Spike made a pouty face which made him smile.

On the way to the shower Spike stopped by at the Despatcher's desk to give Win a hug. He liked doing that when he's sweaty because he always got a reaction. If win wasn't talking to anyone, she'd run away from him, "I swear I will hurt you if you hug me. You transfer your sweat to me, it's disgusting." But the best part was when she happened to be on a call because she had to try to be all professional while he hugged her with his sweat and all; while she cringed. He's been banned from doing it by Ed Lane, Fearless Leader of Team One, but he couldn't help it.

Today, Win wasn't taking it she grabbed a pair of scissors and pointed it at Spike. Jules saw what was happening and pointed a finger gun, "Drop your weapon." It has become an inside joke for all of them. Then Win thought, Spike must really love her because he did listen til she noticed that the Fearless Leader giving Spike _the_ look. She just shook her head.

Three hours later, they've completed their reports and the Boss was pleased. And they were pleased as punch with themselves until the Parker told them they all had to take some time off to attend a seminar on modern policing. Raf inquired, "More of them political correctness stuff? Boss, honestly, I can't do any more punishment." Parker smiled and thought _you guys have no idea what's comin' your way._

"Ok, talk to the hand. Every one of you will be assigned two-days off shift to attend the workshop."

"Two days!" they chorused. Jules was mortified, "God, what have we done to deserve this?"

Ed Lane shook his head, "Since when did we have two days to spare? Last I checked there's still seven days to a week." He slid down on his chair, rubbed his head, "Greg, if I have two days to spare, I'd much rather take Clark fishing than sit in some boring crap chat." As much as he agreed with the sentiment, Greg had no choice but to assign each one their two-day stints, "If there's any consolation, the crap chat is being held in a convention centre in the mountains. You have to admit, four-star accommodation - that's just the sort of working holiday you all deserve."

"OK, write this down", he paused to look at Spike, "or enter them in your electronic diary. Sam, Mon, Tues; Jules Tues, Wed; Spike Wed, Thurs; Ed Thurs, Fri; Raf Fri, Sat and I'd do the week-end." They all looked at the Boss who said, "What?"

Ed Lane spoke for the group, "You're goin' on the week-end?" The Boss with the cherubic face said, "Someone has to do the hard tasks, I can't ask any more of you, anyone who had to do the week-end would have been on duty for seven days."

"Exactly," they all said. "What about Marina and Dean?" Spike asked. "I booked them to stay with me for the week-end at my own costs. Thanks guys for the concern. Ok, everyone dismiss." Ed Lane remained seated as he waited till everyone was out of hearing range, "We gotta discuss the love bird situation." Parker instructed Winnie not to disturb them for anything less than a life and death situation and closed the door to the briefing room, "What about?" he said.

"It's been a year and Spike's still behavin' like a love struck teenager, we've got to do something 'bout that."

"Like what? I'm open to suggestion?"

Ed Lane thought about it for a while, "I know what you mean their schedules only overlap by four hours and they hardly ever have the same days off."

"Precisely. At least Sam and Jules work together and see each other all the time. Those two don't. They do their best to accommodate us. Look at their schedules, they hardly make 20 hours a week together and most of those are here at the Barn. If we don't allow any interaction, Ed, we might as well have said 'no' at the start."

The Fearless Leader nodded in agreement. "I think it's my mid-life crisis talking," the two men smiled, "I've become a party pooper."

"I understand, Ed but I don't think they've negatively impacted the team dynamics at all. I think we can all say we're happy for them."

"Don't get me wrong, Greg, I'm happy for them just hate it when they give me a toothache being too sweet." They laughed out loud. "Let's get out of here or people will start talkin' 'bout an affair between two bald guys." The two men came out of the room in a very good mood. _What's not to like?_ _It's quiet in the streets of Toronto, got all the reports done and the two sets of love birds, well, they're behaving themselves._

Spike spent the rest of his shift in the basement doing all sorts of electronic and mechanical repairs to his toys. But he has been preoccupied lately. Three months ago, someone poisoned their Canadian Eskimo dog, Liley, in the suburb where Win still has a flat. His apartment was too small for them, not to mention their other canine, Moppet the golden retriever. _But how can I just leave my apartment having done so much work on it?_

So Spike was in a state of mental argument with himself, engaged in a cerebral game of tennis. He knew he owed it to Win to make a decision, sooner or later. Sooner would be better but his overthinking head couldn't get pass the _what to do?_ phase. Sadly, every time Win tried to discuss their options he stone walled her, not because he wasn't committed to her and them, he just hadn't thought through all the potential scenarios, and there laid the problem. Spike was suffering from Analysis Paralysis. So while it's quiet in the streets of Toronto, it wasn't inside Spike's head. And, it also wasn't quiet in Win's heart. There was no quick solution – and it would turn bad before it got better.


	5. Three Days to DDay

**Swear Word alert! **Please try not to be offended, it's just the way some people talk.

**Three Days to D-Day**

The marching orders arrived on Friday, the 13th. Someone certainly had a sense of the macabre; it couldn't have been a sense of humour because neither one of them was laughing. The official looking letter was "clean and surgical" in its composition. They were each to receive US$250,000 severance pay to be deposited directly into their bank accounts and given just 48 hours to pack all their belongings and leave the residence; but not prior to "acquainting their replacements to the house rules, and showing them around the premises".

Oh, the letter added there was no need to introduce Little Alvin to his new minders that would be "expertly handled by an experienced child psychologist".

In the back of their minds something didn't add up but they put it down to their dissatisfaction with their treatment and sorrow for neither one of them wanted to leave the Child. They weren't sure how to tell Little Alvin; they had genuine affection for the child who in turn had genuine affection for them. But before they could say anything his Nanny had done so but he wasn't exactly told the truth. She told him Lab and Hawk had decided to leave for their home countries and would be replaced by men who could protect him better.

Little Alvin was very saddened by this news but he still went to see Lab and Hawk at the gym where they spar as usual to keep their fitness. He walked from his Nursery with lead feet, his eyes teary and his spirit downcast. He sat on the bench watching them and wondering why they _really_ wanted to leave.

When they were done, both men went to shower. Lab came out first and saw Little Alvin sitting on the bench playing with his Tonka Truck. The giant Kiwi sat next to him and asked what the matter was for his eyes reflected great sadness. Little Alvin asked if he was a naughty boy, Lab was surprised by the question, "Why do you ask?" The boy replied "Because Nanny said you're going to leave me soon. Was it because I was naughty?" Lab was momentarily silenced, taken aback by what the Nanny had told his charge.

Hawk came out of the shower and smiled seeing the backs of Lab and Little Alvin as they sat side by side. It was a beautiful silhouette. He came over and ruffled Alvin's head. The Boy looked up and asked the same question. The Brit who hardly spoke more than two alphabets crouched down and said, "Why do you ask?" The Boy replied "Because Nanny said you're going to leave me soon. If I promise to be good would you stay?" and then he cried his little heart out.

Lab recovered first and hugged Little Alvin. In the gentlest of voices he said they didn't want to leave him for anywhere in the world; that they were being made to leave and explained there was a big difference between the two. Hawk was angry with the Nanny but he tried not to show it. Little Alvin's little big heart had enough to deal with. But as angry as they were with her, they knew deep down she was only following orders, _someone may be the parents_, wanted to pass the blame along.

Little Alvin climbed on Lab's lap for a cuddle. He always did this when he was frightened or upset or tired but now he was just feeling very sad. Lab lifted him up in his big arms; Hawk went away to confront the Nanny, who apologised to Little Alvin and said she was sorry she lied. The little Boy, a wizened five year old told his Nanny, "Its ok just don't do it again," with a wag of his little finger.

They told Little Alvin they had three days left so they spent all their waking hours playing. From dawn to dusk because Little Alvin had decided "they still have many things to do and time was running out". It brought a smile on Lab and Hawk's faces because they knew the wee Boy didn't know what time was.

On Sunday, Little Alvin received a visitor in his Nursery, his Society Mother. They did the usual air kisses. This was done, according to Little Alvin, to avoid germs spreading. Lab and Hawk couldn't help but remember what the wee Boy said. Actually, there were many things the child had told them that made it hard to keep a straight face.

Society Mother, "philanthropist" if you believed the media reports and absentee parent brought along half the stocks from Toys R Us. Little Alvin shrugged his shoulders and clutched his little old Tonka toy truck in his little hand, it was all he needed. The toys were brought in and Nanny got busy putting them on display.

The Mother looked at Lab and Hawk, "Follow me." They followed her to the informal sitting room where they were introduced to their replacements. "My limousine's waiting," at that she turned to leave.

The new arrivals were George Petrosky and Allan Jones. Lab and Hawk had decided they weren't disclosing the household rules nor would they be showing the two guys around until they were satisfied both were the genuine articles. Petrosky said he was formerly with the Russian Spetnaz. They asked questions, George as expected answered them without skipping a beat. But he dropped way too many names that Lab and Hawk were running out of mental filing cabinets. So while George did dress the part, something didn't sound right. Special Forces didn't unnecessarily dropped names. _Something's wrong. Very wrong._

Jones said he was a former helicopter pilot with the British Army Air Corp, he claimed that like Hawk, he flew the Apache, "I even have a newspaper feature to prove it." Alarm bells rang loudly in both Lab and Hawks' brain. _Something's definitely off. _Apache fighter pilots are treated no differently to Special Forces personnel. Their identities remain secret even after retirement. Their photos and real names are not published unless with their specific signed consent which **they do not give under any circumstances**. Retired Apache pilots continue to receive their mails via a post office box, they don't vote and never have their names listed in any public registers or bills_. Something smells rotten._

After the interview, Lab and Hawk excused themselves. Out of hearing range, Lab said, "Something's fucking wrong man." Hawk, tight lipped as usual just said, "Fuck yeah". They checked with the grapevine. They may be out of the game but they're still very much connected. One phone call to their channel and they've found out both the real George Petrosky and Allan Jones have been given two bullets to the head.

Lab quickly secured Little Alvin in the panic room and Hawk alerted the rest of the staff to get inside their safe zone via a secure comm. But when Hawk and Lab returned to see to the men, they found themselves surrounded by a dozen mercenaries.

_**It's D-Day. **_


	6. Thapa Gurung Gramp

In Honour of the best fighting unit the world has ever known.

**Thapa Gurung – "Gramp"**

Lab and Hawk found themselves surrounded by, strictly speaking, thugs. They wouldn't disgrace even the low lives that were mercenaries by associating them with these arseholes. The thugs were heavily tattooed, heavily armed but lucky for Lab and Hawk way in over their heads. This wasn't to say that Little Alvin's men weren't scared, they were in fact flapping big time. Special Forces or not, any one got scared with the very scent of death. But the difference between men with supreme military training and mere mortals was that the former can keep their fear in check, their brains in gear and their feet in top speed.

What the goons didn't count on was Thapa Gurung, the 68 year old cook and Little Alvin's invisible Guardian. The very really rich and famous didn't hire help like the general population. They were different like that. For the longest serving employee who has been with the family for 30 years was a Gurkha. Thapa Gurung was originally hired as a kitchen hand after he left the British Army Gurkha, his unit the 6th Queen Elizabeth's Own Gurkha Rifles.

He's now been the family cook for over 20 years and the only person alive who could make Little Alvin eat when he didn't care about food. The Gurkha was Little Alvin's "Gramp" only because the wee one couldn't say "Hajurba" Nepali for Grandfather. Gramp gave Little Alvin the little Tonka Truck he called "priceless".

Hardly anything is known about Thapa Gurung's fighting unit. The world know but one fact, the Gurkha unit was the single largest ethnic recipient of the Victoria Cross Medal, the highest honour that could be bestowed by the British Empire for gallantry and bravery. The former Chief of staff of the British Indian Army, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, once famously said about Gurkhas: "If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha."

So the man called "Gramp" has entered the fray. Noiselessly, he entered the room and that's when Lab and Hawk knew they had gained the upper hand. Gramp tossed two screening smoke grenades that gave Lab and Hawk a chance to run for the secret passage concealed by a false wall; but even as they ran for Little Alvin they knew Gramp would pay the price with his life.

Screening smoke grenades contain HC (hexachloroethane/zinc) smoke mixture or TA (terephthalic acid) smoke mixture. HC smoke is harmful to breathe, since it contains hydrochloric acid. Whilst not intended as a primary effect, these grenades can generate enough heat to scald or burn unprotected skin. Three goons closest to the grenades suffered severe burns.

When the smoke dissipated; the goons, with nowhere to run after Gramp had locked all the doors behind him, found who they dismissed as an aged cook still in the room with them with his gas mask on. He didn't bother running, no. He was too old for that. Too frail. His knees have long ago succumbed to arthritis and the pain of many wars in the name of the British Empire. After everyone has coughed out the effects of the toxic gas, Gramp removed his gas mask and stood serenely in their midst. It was an unnerving serenity. They sensed that the old man was prepared to die for the little one.

Gramp was a small man, like most Nepali. And he has shrunk with age, a little stoop. But in his youth, this Gurkha was a formidable fighter, worthy of the name of his unit. Nine men remained standing. Not bad he thought, but he wasn't finished_. I've has lived to a ripe old age of 68, then if I have to go today, I will take as many with me as possible._

**He would die today** and there probably won't be many pieces of him left after he pulled the safety pin of a real grenade to warrant a tomb stone. No, he wasn't interested in a memorial of steel and stone; and he wasn't interested in wreaths of flowers. He was satisfied to know that the Little One has a little old Tonka Truck to remember him by and even as the boy forgets with the passing of time, he has marked his spot right here in the protection of the only living person he has ever loved, more than he loved his own mother and Father.

Gramp pulled the pin, tossed it and remained standing until there was none of him. He took out another four, and now there were five. He, Thapa Gurung, Gurkha and Gramp to one wee boy, died a Hero and he evened the fight for Lab and Hawk.


	7. When's a Hot Call too Hot to Handle?

**When's a 'Hot Call' too Hot to Handle?**

It didn't matter that the upper crust home was in the middle of a seven acre property and surrounded by high walls, when a grenade exploded in the middle of a peaceful Sunday afternoon the community of York's rich and famous heard the almighty "boom". The SRU's siren went off anyway the minute Hawk activated the silent alarm. Lab and Hawk made their escape with Little Alvin via the hidden subterranean passageway. It was a labyrinth of grand scale as Little Alvin's domain actually comprised of three adjoining properties, hence the seven acres.

"Hot call, Hot Call, explosion in York," announced Winnie.

"Explosion! Explosion! Explosion," Spike practically danced a jig, it didn't give Win any confidence this was going to be a routine call. SRU was geared up and hooning away in five minutes, and were on scene in 12. From the start of the property's long driveway, they could see smoke billowing from the mid-section of the house. Sam whistled, "This is one seriously hot call, dude." Raf who was riding with him eyed the smoke and quipped, "Or maybe the cook forgot to turn off the gas after the Bar-B-Q," little did he know that a heroic cook did have something to do with it.

As soon as they were parked a safe distance, Greg climbed up the Command Truck where Spike was already booting everything up. "Spike, upload the lay-out of the property, will ya?"

"Yes, Boss, coming right up."

"Woo, holy Batman. It's a Bat cave." Greg Parker smirked and pretended to hit him on the head, "What are we looking at?"

"We're looking at a Bat cave, Boss. If you don't believe me have a look for yourself. "

Greg looked at the monitor and his jaw dropped. "I think this is a job for Justice League," taking the mickey out of Spike, who just grinned with a silly grin, as per usual.

Ed Lane climbed up the truck and looked at the monitor, "What's that?" Spike and Greg said, "It's Bat cave." Fearless Leader glared at them. He looked back on the screen again, was silent for a moment, "Ok, all hands on deck, except you Scarlatti, we need you to guide us along the corridors and the rooms," he said pointing to the screen. "Do we have thermal imaging?" _We never had a hot call too hot to handle ….. until now. _

"Ed, the property's too big for thermal imaging to see in every room, you have to be doubly careful," said Spike seriously and wished the Team Leader had asked him to join the search for survivors and suspects. But at this stage it was too early to tell whether there were suspects in the house; or if it was just a grand mishap.

"Boss, you're with us, I don't think there's anyone there to negotiate with." Ed Lane jumped down and gave tactical instructions to his Team. If Spike was disappointed to be left behind yet again he didn't show it. He knew the Fearless Leader was right, someone has to guide his Team inside the… _it's like dungeons and Dragons_… Bat cave. He's a team player, if this was what he was asked to do then he'd do it. To be sure his team had every resources, Spike uploaded the lay-out of the property to each one's PDA. But there wasn't enough memory in the PDAs to get the whole architectural design in, _that would just have to do, for now._

"Winnie, call Team Two and Team Three to secure the houses on either side," so T2 and T3 got hot called out to form Justice League.

Inside the labyrinth, Lab and Hawk stripped down to their gortex black suit, similar to what speed skaters use in competition. Nothing would snag to their clothing. Nothing! They put their gears on in a practiced five minutes flat. Lab strapped Little Alvin to his back, placed his backpack on his chest, he clipped the two together. He was armed to the teeth but with only small firearms, they didn't want anything cumbersome to carry. He has two preferred side arms, the Sig Saur P228 which can be utilised as a double action firearm or semi-automatic. It carried 13 rounds and it's fully loaded. The second, the Israeli made Desert Eagle .50AE, this would fire any bullet with just a change of magazine, has a high calibre and came with 7 bullets. Fully loaded. The firearms were holstered to both sides of his hips.

The backpack was a virtual armoury, packed with smoke grenades, grenades, ammos. Survival kits, first aid, compass, duct tape and his Swiss Army knife and sheathed to the inside of his thigh was a Ka-Bar fighting knife.

Hawk clipped two backpacks onto him, back and front. The huge backpack contained their mountaineering gear. Ropes, carabiners, hooks, clips, rappel racks, three types of pulley, and body harnesses. All these in one massive pack; the type that once undone would be hell to repack, the thought made Hawko groan. He was similarly armed with the exception of his choice of side arms. Hawk was a Heckler and Koch kind a guy.

Both men removed their boots, strung the laces on their belt. They slipped on their high tech, high spec, made to measure speed skater boots that simply clipped on. And away they went. They've rehearsed this maneuver countless times; and in every occasion, they made it seem like child's play for Little Alvin's sake. They were determined to make this a non-trauma event for the Child but even for two big hearted men, it would be asking for the impossible.

So strapped to Lab's back, the child whooped at the speed by which Lab navigated the labyrinth. They were turning left, right, left right. Crouched low on the ground to achieve a lower gravity and for maximum speed, they were amazing to watch, any one would have been awestruck at the mean looking sexy machines that Lab and Hawk were. But there wasn't an audience to witness the spectacle because the labyrinth didn't have a camera and wasn't on the plan.

Hawk and Lab were on their own, with a child to protect and had no idea how many goons they had to face, and where they were waiting for the ambush. _But right now, baby step, we just need to get up above ground to flee the assault, _ but that would be easier said than done. A second group of 12 goons had been stationery in every possible exit outside the perimeter! Hell was going to be unleashed upon them.

With Team Two on the job to secure the first house and Team Three, the third. Team One's focused was the middle house that dwarfed the other two. The five goons in the mansion had their hands full when the SRU breached the perimeter and were doing a room by room search. It was a fire fight of global proportion. By SIU's tally, Team One expended 250 rounds of bullets as the shoot-out with the goons went for five long hours. Kandahar Mark II came live in the community of York.

Commander Holleran had to make a personal appearance to manage the media camped outside the property to the annoyance and disgruntlement of York's beautiful people_. How dare they trample upon our hallowed ground._

By the end of the siege, Team One had the almighty task of securing every servants, totalling eight altogether; and rounding up a lone suspect; the other four have expired. Greg and Ed thought that there could have been more, some may have escaped. But these men were not in the business of speculation so they kept their gob shut.

Detectives were called in to take the statements of eight servants, it would take eight hours just to make sense of what happened and they haven't figured that a child was missing - yet. And when it did come to light, the power of the one of the world's richest men crushed down on the politicians, who crushed down on the bureaucrats, who crushed down on the police commander, who crushed down on the detectives and the SRU. It was times like this one didn't care to be at the bottom of the barrel.

The Coroner's Office was called in to see to the departed and to separate the fragments of those blown apart by the grenade. It wasn't a task for the fainthearted.

After they surveyed the carnage, the detectives didn't have an idea where to start Toronto hasn't seen anything quite like it. And when they found out a child was abducted by his "retiring minders" RCMP Kidnap Division had to join the alphabet soup bowl, it was really getting too crowded in there!

The media was having a field day. Tomorrow's banner headline would be "EX SF Bodyguards Abduct World's Richest Child." The two big hearted minders were now fugitives and every law enforcement agencies, on top of the goons, would be on their tail.

By the time the soap opera had tapered down, it was Sunday midnight, Greg went home tired as hell.

Ed went home to his family and glad he wasn't rich.

Jules went home and marked her kill (she got two).

Raf went home nauseated by the carnage and one kill.

Sam Braddock went home and for the first time EVER pleased he'd be going away to a crap chat in the mountains for two days, _away from the bedlam_.

And, Spike went home still addled brained as usual.


	8. Hiding in Plain Sight

**Hiding in Plain Sight**

Inside the labyrinth, Lab and Hawk skated to a secure garage where a bullet-proofed SUV was permanently stashed. The garage door looked like a common brick wall from the outside, an ideal decoy when the occupants needed to do a quick get-away. Lab unstrapped Little Alvin and put him in his car seat, Hawk loaded everything else in.

No one who saw the 'brick wall' open and the SUV careened out knew what to think, it was too science fiction for a lot of people. But it wasn't science fiction to a couple of goons who saw the get-away, they alerted the whole pack and the chase was on.

In the vehicle, Lab and Hawk inserted their ear wigs. Later, both would hook up to the same secure channel so they'd be in constant touch even if they got separated. Ideally, they'd prefer to operate together but the chase was on and they had to be ready for any eventuality. First off, they must ditch the vehicle, pronto! The SUV was too visible, they needed to be invisible.

While Hawk drove Lab pulled a pack from under his seat, his clothes. He put on a plain T-shirt and pair of denim jeans. The gortex black suit would remain on him until the saga ended. He would stink like tuna fish by the time their situation was resolved but he might have to be ditch his clothes again so the black suit was a necessary precaution. Always better to be safe than sorry. He kept his Sig Saur in the small of his back, his preferred place to draw from. That's been drilled to SF operators - don't change the location of your gun, unless you don't have a choice. The last thing you want to do was draw from your back when your gun was holstered on your side.

When he finished dressing, it was Hawk's turn to change into street clothes. They made the switch on the wheel without stopping, another skill Lab learned from the Mobility Troop of the SAS. As soon as Hawk was done, he climbed to the back seat and attended to Little Alvin, he dressed the child in all-black attire. If you want to be invisible, wear black. If you want to be seen from a mile away, wear yellow. Simple rule of survival.

Lab drove into an underground car park. They have recced this car park many times before. They knew for instance that there was a locked toilet in the lowest floor for the use of maintenance staff. The Swiss army knife unlocked the door, it really does come in handy, that. They went in and Lab made the ultimate sacrifice for Little Alvin, he shaved his beard and cut his hair; likewise Hawk shaved his red hair which always stood out, so the mop had to go. Little Alvin had a hair cut too, the curly blond top just won't do.

That done, they went back to the SUV, retrieved the backpacks. Now they looked just like any other backpacker. They found an obscure Chinese restaurant, it served fresh fish, but one you had to pick out of an aquarium alive. Little Alvin was excited. He hasn't seen so many people; and so many odd stuffs in his life. He thought it was cool that one could pick out a fish to eat, the men indulged him although they themselves preferred the usual fare.

They finished their meals, paid, left and took money out of the automatic teller machine at THE specific time. They didn't want to be too late or too early, IT had to happen at THAT time. The withdrawal took them slightly longer because they both had to do something unusual. But slightly longer was just five seconds; and it was five seconds well spent.

They went to a Youth Hostel and booked for a night. No one took any notice of "two gay men with a child". It's Toronto, it's ok. At the check in, Hawk supplied fake passports for all of them, hoping that the passports were still sterile or they'd be leading their pursuers to their location. They knew from experience that shits had hit the fan, they had to act quickly. After getting themselves a secure locker to store their gear, Hawk and Lab went their separate ways. Lab took Little Alvin with him.

Hawk's first stop was an internet café, he logged online to do his internet banking and transferred some money out to an account with another bank. Lab did the same at a different internet café. Both were in and out before anyone could blink twice. Hawk wasn't done however, he found another internet cafe and transferred more money out yet again. Then he bought food supplies for three days.

They didn't plan to be on the run for longer than three days, they had to clear their names sooner rather than later. But the main thing for them was figuring out who the mastermind was for the kidnapping attempt because it had the hallmark of a well-funded operation, this can't be the work of a disgruntled business competitor of the child's father.

They knew that tonight the incident at the mansion would be news. But tomorrow would be out of this world sensational; their faces and Little Alvin's would be in the papers and the television,on the internet, too. They could almost predict word for word what the news reports would say. The media would say, "relevant sources said". Or offer to quote some "reliable source within the police department" who's likely never existed. That's the sort of hogwash the public was fed, _anything to sell the news. _

On their return to the hostel, the men slept in shift. It would be a very long night but at least Little Alvin thankfully was a pleasure to be with. He didn't grumble, whined, whinged or threw tantrums. As long as they were "still playing games", the tot was fine.

The next day as expected they were the blaring headline. Every media outlets had some wicked story to tell about these former SF bodyguards who turned against their employer. They interviewed people who claim to know the men, the abductors! The authorities were helpless to stop all the stupid speculations. ** Freedom of the press! **

It was so stupid because the police weren't convinced that Hawk and Lab were the bad guys, because if they were the bad guys, then who the hell were the heavily tattooed fatalities in the mansion? But some press people caught on to that bit of logic and expanded on it. The slanderous conclusion was, "The former SF bodyguards double crossed the bad guys they were in cahoots with." Oh dear, the non-stop speculations fuelled the fire!

Hawk and Lab watched the news in total disbelief. But it really didn't matter now, they had just one more thing to do before they head up to the mountain. The mountain! That's their terrain, they would take the goons to fight it out where they wouldn't know their hands from their feet.

They took more money out to the teller machine, spent five seconds longer than necessary at precisely THAT time. Now, they just had to **hope** someone clever knew what he or she or they were looking at.


	9. Samuel Braddock JTF Warrior

**Samuel Braddock, JTF Warrior**

Day One: Monday - after their date with the automatic teller machine, Little Alvin and the men rented an ordinary car, so common in Toronto it'd be trying to find a needle in a hay stack, a Honda Civic. The police had a hard time finding them because whilst they kept eyes on every airport, port, freeway and car rental companies, they were mainly watching out for credit card transactions.

But the men paid in cash to flag them to the bandits. They knew whoever was funding this kidnap operation had written the rule book on how to operate as a crook, they would play by their rules. Let them follow the bread crumbs. Lab lifted Little Alvin on the clerk's counter, "Hey, where would you like to go kiddo?" The Little One played along. They've rehearsed this "play" hundreds of times, "I want to go to the Blue Mountain Resorts." Lab rubbed his head, there wasn't any blond curly tops left to ruffle, "Good boy, so that's where we'll go."

Twenty minutes after they left the hire car company, two goons walked in, asked the clerk if two men and a child was come in to rent a car, "as a matter of fact, yes."

"Did they say where they're going?"

"Yeah, the little boy wanted to go to the Blue Mountain Resorts." Well, some things never change. The bandits, they all liked to feel and look important, spoke to their lapel, "We've found them, they're heading to the Blue Mountain Resort." The clerk made a face. The travel time to the Resort would be approximately two hours if they didn't encounter any mishaps. By Hawk and Lab's calculation, they should have enough time for lunch before things got noisy.

One warrior was already up in the mountain bored to excruciating death with the conference, training, whatever. The first session in the morning, which started at an unholy hour of 0800, was presented by someone with a short name but a long line of abbreviations after it. Only the Dr. looked familiar to Sam. He didn't care to know who someone was. He decided he'd endure another two-hour session in the morning and then he was going walk-about. _They can sin bin me, I don't care. An afternoon of this would cause irreversible brain damage._

Samuel Braddock has been cooped up in the session hall, conference hall, whatever, the entire morning so he hasn't heard the news. But once they broke for lunch, the screaming headline was on the television in the hotel foyer. Sam stood transfixed, _I know him._ Adam Lewis, Apache Helicopter pilot, war hero, call sign Hawk saved Sam's life once, and it's a debt never to be forgotten**. Never.** Sam Braddock, JTF2, war hero would repay his debt.

Sam watched the news that seemed to go on a loop; it just went on and on and on. The media found people to talk, _who the hell are these people?_ A lawyer who knew crap shit about international law and war history was prattling on about rules of engagement. _What the fuck?_

Braddock has had enough of the crappy prattle on television, he rang Ed Lane, Fearless Leader of T1, "Ed, I've just seen the news. Man, I'm telling you these men didn't kidnap the child. They're keeping him safe. I don't know the New Zealander but I know the Brit. He saved my life once, Ed. In the field, we relied on these guys to save our asses. Apache pilots would go to hell and back to save a mate. Fuck Ed we've got to do something."

Ed replied, sounding very strained and angry, "How do you know that? You're telling me no SF guys or highly trained chopper pilot ever go rouge. You're telling me they all retire and spend their lives doing goodwill to all mankind. That's naïve, Braddock."

It took a lot of self-control for Braddock not to throw a tantrum right then and there in the middle of the hotel foyer. He's offended and he was not going to play nice, he raised his voice slightly. "Ed, I am sure _**this**_ guy didn't do it. As sure as I am of you. That you would fight to the death for your family. That's how sure I am."

Ed retorted, "Sam, I believe you, 100%." _What the hell just happened? Talk about a 180 degree turn in tone and attitude._ Sam didn't know what to say at first, then, "Ed, Did you just snort something?" The T1 leader laughed, "Someone in bling uniform was listening to our conversation I had to lose him first. Sam, this place is crawling with all sorts of undesirables right now. But I'm with you. We're trying our best to be the voice of reason here. Everyone with anything to say wants to blast these two guys out of the sky. But hang tight. I'll be in touch." Sam breathed a sigh of relief. As soon as he hanged up, a little boy approached him with a note, "Sir, this is for you."

Sam took the piece of paper and read a simple message, a military unit number, a call sign and a GPS location. He looked down at the blue-eyed child, "What's your name?" The reply was "Albert Leon-Lewis." The tot smiled a charming smile, gave him a wave and disappeared into the crowd.

_Leon?_ He turned to watch the news again, Labalaba Temeura Leon, suspected kidnapper the newsreader said. _That's the last name of the Kiwi warrior. Lewis, Hawk's last name. They definitely didn't kidnap this child. _Sam walked to the rendezvous point.

From a distance, he saw the lanky guy but only because he moved, otherwise the paper thin man could've been part of the foliage. Sam skipped towards Hawk, they gave each other a manly hug, "Fuck, how'd you know I was here?"

"I didn't, saw you at the hotel foyer and I overheard you talking to someone on the phone defending my honour," Hawk laughed. "Good to know, I still have a friend."

Hawk eyed him, "Mate, I don't have much time. Lab's waiting for me. We've got an army on our asses. We need someone we can trust to look after Alvin. We've booked him in the children's activity centre as Albert Braddock, your son." Sam was speechless, Hawk chuckled.

"Keep him safe. He means the world to us. If we don't come back, don't give him to anyone until you know who's behind the attempt to snatch him. That's the only way he would remain safe. Promise me, Samuel Braddock."

"Promise. But I don't want to leave you guys out there with an army on your ass, you could use a man."

"Yeah, but Alvin **needs** a man, be that for him." Hawk almost vanished before his eyes. Sam would do his darn best to keep the boy safe. For now, Little Alvin was his son.

The thugs arrived. Hawk and Lab were poised on the lookout with their mountain bikes. Slung on their backs were their survival kits. The team leader of Team Arseholes had his bino on them, "There they are."

Hawk and Lab didn't move a muscle. They would wait until the thugs were close enough before they do anything. There would be no collateral damage. The fight would commence in the interiors of the mountain where the men knew the terrain. The assholes weren't even dressed for the occasion. _In suits and ties? In the mountain?_ The temperature would be hypothermic in three hours. The next time they'd see the arseholes again, they'd be thawing among hot water bottles.


	10. Who's the Clever Boy?

**Who's the Clever Boy?**

Day One: Monday Morning – SRU HQ

Win and Spike has a regular four hour overlap at work, that's Ed Lane's RDA (recommended daily allowance) of sweetness. Win was at work since 5am, Spike came in at 9am. But before he could zero in on his girlfriend for a hug, Greg Parker was already accosting him, "In here, Scarlatti."

Spike scratched his head, "Coming" but sequed to Win's desk anyway. "I need my RDA." Everyone at HQ groaned. Donna who's like a big sister to Spike shook her head, "Quickly, we're all waiting for you." But at the word, "Quickly" Spike deliberately lingered. Donna glared, "NOOOOOW." Winnie just laughed at her boyfriend's antics.

"Ok, did Hank forget to tell you you're beautiful?" Donna gave him a puzzled look. Spike continued, "I think he forgot or you wouldn't be so cranky." Donna hit him on the shoulder, "Boss, Sgt Sabine hit me."

Present in the briefing room were Commander Holleran, T1, Sgt Donna Sabine and her T3 contingent and detectives from RCMP Kidnap Division. Spike looked at the crowd and whistled, "Geez, box office hit." The Boss looked at the ceiling, Scarlatti now's not the time to be goofing.

Among the seated royalty were lawyers (plural) of one of the world's richest man. They were dressed to the nines. If they meant to impress, it didn't work because Scarlatti's mental arithmetic went like this. Tom Ford suits retail, CAN$5000. Materials cost CAN$100. Labour costs CAN$200. The Idiots overpaid by CAN$4,700. It's an oversimplification, for sure, but you get the point.

"What's up?" Spike asked the gathered masses.

"We have videos of the guys from four different ATMs in the city, withdrawing money, but these made us very curious?" A RCMP detective played the videos one at a time. They were scratchy but good enough recordings. It showed the men taking out a small amount each time, CAN$100. Then it showed one open palm on the screen and a finger either tapping or slashing on the palm. Spike understood. "It's Morse code, they're telling us something."

A young, wet behind the ears detective couldn't believe he missed that, "Morse code?"

"Yeah, that's the great thing about Morse Code. You can use mirror, flashlight, sound, pen and paper, stones, any parts of your body. Honestly, we shouldn't be relying on modern technology alone. When there's a breakdown in electronic gadgetry, Morse Code never fails."

Spike interpreted the signals on the open palm and finger taps and slashes for the crowd, the first one just said, "SOS." The second, "Trust no one." The third, "Boy is safe." Fourth, "Hunting mastermind."

Donna asked the question, "Do we believe them?"

"I'd believe them. This wasn't done on the lam. They're following a definite survival protocol because none of these could have been coincidence. Look at the time stamp," Spike pointed the laser pen at the screen, "Adam Lewis did this on 9.11.11pm on Sunday. At the same time, Lab Leon was at another ATM at 9.11.15pm. That's two 911s."

"Then again today. Adam Lewis took money out at 9.11.09am and Lab Leon was in another ATM at 9.11.01am. That's another two 911s."

"Have they taken any more money out? I mean, CAN$400 won't do them much good in Toronto. They must have taken more." Just then, Winnie walked in the briefing room, "Sorry guys, this just came in, print out from the banks." Spike took them from her.

"Look at this. These men are very clever. First transfer, $9,110.00. Second, $911.00 and the third $9.11. Honestly, these guys are telling us they didn't kidnap the child and they need our help." The law enforcement people were all in agreement but not so one lawyer, THE family lawyer. THE one who calls the shot, "I don't believe it. If I'm running this show, I'd give a shot to kill order." Something stinks.

Ed Lane's phone rang it was Samuel Braddock, Warrior SRU reporting. "They're here and I saw about a dozen goons chasing their tails, armed to the teeth." Fearless Leader perked up, ARMED, did you say, young Braddock.

"Guys, we've got eyes on them and the thugs who's after them, gear up. Hot call! Team Three, you guys are coming too. And we need to get EMS organised. Winnie, work on that. Blue Mountain Resort."

As T1 and T3 left the room to gear up, Spike aka Wolf, sniffed something in the air and he wasn't going to let go. He returned to the briefing room where everyone else had left bar the family lawyer, he was about to make a call, "Sorry," Spike said, "I forgot something." He grabbed whatever garbage he could find and pocketed them.

The family lawyer waited for Spike to leave and then made a call. Big mistake!


	11. Jungle Warfare

Please read "Hell Hath No Fury" if you'd like to know the back story about Senior Detective Constable Lloyd Andrews. However, if you don't care to, it won't stop you from enjoying this chapter.

**Jungle Warfare**

Hawk and Lab waited til the thugs were about two kilometres from where they were before they disappeared into the bush. The retired Kiwi commando and the chopper pilot with combat skills would use stealth and deception to win this war. Guerilla tactics rather than firepower was their strategy of choice. The less use of lethal power the better, stray bullets don't discriminate between thugs and innocent bush walkers and mountaineers. **No collateral damage, that's the plan.**

An hour earlier, Lab and Hawk had chosen a tree each and made sure that they could see each other as they'd be using hand signals only. The ear wigs won't do the trick. There was no electronic signal in the thickness of the forest. Up on the tree, they made their basic camp. Although they'd rather not fire their weapons, they prepared their side arms anyway. First, they disassembled them, cleaned them, and then put them back together. Well maintained guns were less likely to jam. They attached a silencer and a telescopic lens onto one. Done, they left their gears, firearms, and covered it with camouflage netting. They came down from their perch armed only with Ka-Bar fighting knife and the Swiss Army knife.

With plenty of time, they prepared the battlefield, laid false trails by double backing on themselves. They deliberately snagged branches, left footprints and dropped clues the thugs could follow, then they carefully reversed back on their own footprints. The clues would take the thugs deeper into the forest where the chance of getting lost was extremely high. The forest has no landmark. The disorientation alone could easily scare the living daylights out of anyone unfamiliar with the terrain; not to mention the unfamiliar noises of animals and bird life. Lab and Hawk knew modern cell phones with GPS capabilities were useless here. The thugs without jungle training would have little to no chance of making it out of the forest.

The false trail done, the men laid traps. Lab climbed up another tree close to a well-trodden path and rigged a trapper's net, covered it with leaves. They should be able to snag a couple of thugs who'd likely stray down it. All done, the Kiwi and the Brit went to the lookout and waited, that's where the Army of thugs found them.

With just two kilometres between them and the private army, Lab and Hawk made the move to their hide-outs. Now well-concealed with camouflaged netting up on their perch. Well hidden by thick branches, the commandos waited and scoped out the private army coming up the tracks with their binoculars. Lab had the Team Leader in his cross hair, he was going to fire one shot and one shot only, "Come to daddy," he whispered to himself. The rule of the pack was simple. Drop the leader and the pack retreats, so he determined to drop the Team Leader. "Come a little closer." Waiting for the target to get a little closer eliminated the risk of targeting the wrong person, it has nothing to do with the accuracy of the shot. Lab can hit a target two kilometres away, easy!

An hour earlier in Toronto Team One and Team Three requested for a chopper to take them to the Blue Mountain Resorts, there was no way they'd make in time if they travelled by car. It was a no-brainer. A two hour drive versus a 30 minute flight by chopper? The air travel won hands down even if they had to wait 20 minute for one to arrive at SRU HQ. Throughout the saga, Ed maintained phone contact with Sam who was glad not to have to attend the afternoon session of the conference. "No gunshot fired so far," Sam told Ed.

Sgt Greg Parker asked to speak to Management, "Advise all guests to remain indoors, find out if any guests may be out doing nature activities." The management was cooperative and did what they were asked, within half an hour the hotel was in lock down.

At the hotel foyer, Sam personally took control of the situation, he addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentleman, I am First Class Constable Sam Braddock with the SRU. Please be advised you're not in any immediate danger but I'd like to ask you to go back to your room and to stay there until further notice. If you have kids in crèche or at the children's centre, please get them now and take them with you to your room."

Once he thought most guests were in their rooms, Sam asked the staff to check room by room to find out if any guests were missing or unaccounted for. It was all honky dory until he remembered he was a "father" to one Albert Braddock. "Holy shit," he muttered and quickly went to the children's centre himself. He took Little Alvin and brought him to the Management Office to be closely watched by office staffers who delighted in the child. They were confused however when the child kept insisting his name was Albert Leon-Lewis, not Albert Braddock. Sam smiled and said, "He's kidding. He's a joker." An ugly thought crossed his mind. _I just aided and abetted two "kidnappers". Imagine the headline, SRU Officer in collusion with kidnappers_. Sam shuddered inwardly.

When the SRU arrived at the scene, Sam was quick to meet them, although he himself couldn't join the party. No bullet proof vest, no joy! No guns, no joy! He was however contented to be minding his "son" after briefing the teams.

It was a straight-forward, no non-sense briefing, Ed Lane and Donna Sabine both wanted to know how many players were involved. "I counted 12 thugs. They've entered the forested area about two hours ago. I spotted several semi-automatic sniper rifles, small fire arms for sure. One guy was carrying a backpack, maybe ammunitions."

"Good job," Ed Lane tapped Sam on the shoulders. "Let's go guys, diamond formation and stay within range of your buddies." Sam remembered, "Guys, there's no GPS signal in there, be careful not to get lost, it's getting cold and dark."

"Copy that."

Ed emphasised for good measure, "Strictly buddy system, we don't want this to turn to a search and rescue."

Sgt Greg Parker stayed behind to await the EMS and other law enforcement units. The last thing he wanted to happen was for some gung-ho person or units wanting a piece of the action and causing more problem than solution_. When high profile cases come up some people just can't help themselves and here comes one. _He looked familiar, Senior Detective constable Lloyd Andrew, that's who. He of the RCMP Missing People who accused Spike of kidnapping Winnie and killing her. _ Oh God! I swear if he tangles with me I will thump him._

Three hours since the start of the guerrilla warfare, the temperature has dropped to 8 degrees celsius (48 degrees Fahrenheit). Both Lab and Hawk were comfortable in their gortex black body suit, layered with military T-shirt and camouflage shirt, woollen beanie on their head, woollen scarf around their neck, camouflage pants and military water proofed boots. And they were both hidden under tree branches for protection. Their pursuers however were dressed for a party, and the fact that they were stupid enough to venture into the jungle… well, served them right!

Special Forces believed in one thing,** fight with your head**. All the fire fights were Hollywood. SF operators prefer things not to get noisy, if possible. So now it would be a matter of waiting which got the thugs first; the choices were simple, hypothermia, disorientation or the net. Lab didn't have to wait long, there was an elongated "Aaargh" screams as the net hoisted up. Lab smiled, he caught two! The SRU heard the scream. "Guys, eyes and ears open." Those two guys were the lucky ones, the SRU found them first before they turned to icicles.

Lab continued to scope the Team Leader, there was no mistaking it, "You're my man", Lab kept him in sight, squeezed the trigger of the silenced Sig Saur P228 and suddenly the Team Leader dropped dead. Just like that. Easy peasy. No big deal. The lackeys looked around with fright in their eyes. That's when the game changed, it became _to each his own_.

Hawk and Lab watched with amusement as the men circled the same trees over and over, not knowing North from South, East from West. Hawk was disappointed he didn't get to use his gun but he enjoyed the entertainment. Then he noticed movements, dark clothing and disciplined formation moving forward, stealthily. He whistled to Lab, and gave him the hand signal, "Rescue has arrived."

By the time the 10th thug was captured, it was close to 2000 hours. The temperature has dropped to a freezing -1 degree Celsius (30.2 degrees Fahrenheit). Two remain unaccounted for. Everyone knew that by tomorrow morning they would be going straight to the coroner's city morgue, the hospital would be a non-event.

This was the tally that evening. One seriously dead dude. Two caught in the net, alive and mildly hypothermic. Four seriously hypothermic and required immediate medical attention; three severely hypothermic and would require a teeny bit of limb amputation. Like Hawk and Lab said, "served them right!"

Ed observed that for the first time in his long career, the subjects were willing to surrender. They were happy to be caught. Rounding up the thugs was a walk in the park.

Greg was busy coordinating with EMS and RCMP detectives. The suspects were read their rights, booked and cuffed before being taken to the hospital. They were not going to lose them to a legal technically or carelessness or confusion. Greg made sure everyone understood what they were meant to do. SRU was in the business of capture and arrest. RCMP was in the business of interrogation. Once they placed them in the care of RCMP, SRU knew to back off. Greg ignored SDC Andrews all night long. Correction: The entire SRU ignored SDC Andrews all night long.

Lab and Hawk didn't come down from their concealment until first light Tuesday; when everyone was in custody. By now, anyone not yet caught would be frozen delight. Their skeletons won't be found until next summer.

Indeed, the other two were never found even after an all-day search on Tuesday, at any rate, the media were all agog about wasting taxpayers' money searching for crooks. Oh, how things have changed in 48 hours.


	12. Accidentally on Purpose

**Accidentally on Purpose**

Nine suspects were in custody but none of them knew anything. NADA. ZILCH. NIL. KAPUT. ZERO.

The RCMP Chief of Kidnap division told a packed press conference immediately following the arrests, "We're still in the dark on who's masterminded the kidnap attempt. Due to this, Labalaba Temeura Leon and Adam "Hawk" Lewis could not be cleared of any charges; however, we are open-minded because the child himself has testified that his minders didn't kidnap him."

But Little Alvin's words weren't good enough, because as the Family Lawyer said "What did he know? He's a child, he's barely six," in his Oxford educated accent and every journalists drank his words. They were giddy with his eloquence and erudite expression. And he? Well, he basked in the limelight. In fact, he could potentially have a new career as a talk show host when he's done strutting in front of the enamoured public.

The list of charges against Lab and Hawk were so long RCMP needed a dedicated photocopier just to print out and copy the papers for all parties to sign. It started with attempted kidnapping, malicious damage to property, wasting police resources, public disturbance, public endangerment, possession of false identification, and in Lab's case, first degree murder. But they weren't worried for themselves. They were worried for the little one so they told Sam to keep an eye on the boy when he came to visit them in jail.

Hawk who hardly spoke more than two alphabets said, "Mate, until the mastermind's caught, he's not safe."

"Don't worry. We're doing all we can. With the police and the media keeping a close watch, I think they'd be stupid to try again so soon." Sam reassured Lab and Hawk.

The Kiwi was very quiet, the "not knowing who" has gotten to him. Sometimes he wished he didn't top the Team Leader, _he would've known the mastermind._ But most of the time he didn't regret it. _I'd top him over and over again like a sitting duck in a carnival. _Most of all, he wished that the circus would be over!

But it wasn't going to be over any time soon, now that the world media had descended to Toronto. It became the biggest money spinner for the City. All hotel rooms were booked out. Restaurants were doing a roaring trade, what with all the media people from every major networks and publications. It beat the Olympics hands down and at no costs of building infrastructure.

Everyone with anything to say whether it made sense or not, were still appearing on television. The public was divided. The pollsters got into the thick of things and they told all and sundry what every honcho already knew: That most of the women were convinced the men didn't do the dastardly deeds but most of the men believed they did it.

Who's to know the truth but one guy who left his cell phone in the briefing room_, accidentally on purpose_. "Boss, can I talk to you for a minute." Spike peeped into the briefing room whilst Greg Parker was writing his report. "Of course, grab a seat."

Super Geek smiled his silly grin, and the Boss had a sixth sense, "Spike, do I really want to know?" The younger man nodded, "Yes, you do." Then he played the recording to his Boss. "Was how you obtain that recording even legal?"

"Who cares, Boss? It would clear those two great guys of all charges. Little Alvin would be safe again, the City would save taxpayers' money putting two innocents on trial, what's the problem?" The Boss sighed.

_The Boss is a wise man, he'll figure it out._ He was the wisest man Spike has ever known. So Techie left his cell phone in front of Greg Parker. He stood up, confident that the Boss would do the right thing. _He'll sort it out. _And personally speaking, Super Geek's brain has cleared too. The fog has lifted. He knew just what to do with his domestic situation with Winnie but before that he had to sort out some stuff first.

A few hours later, the Boss arranged a meeting with the people concern through the proper channel. The proper channel was asking Commander Holleran who in turn asked the RCMP chief, who in turn contacted the Family Lawyer, who asked the parents and Alvin to be present. It was in fact to Greg's amazement that the meeting was able to be held at all!

The meeting was held in a secure location, nominated by Little Alvin's parents, who it turned out really, really, really love their son. They just had a funny way of showing it.

The people present were Little Alvin, his parents, the Family Lawyer, the detectives minus SDC Andrews and most importantly, Lab and Hawk. Apart from Sgt Greg Parker, no one in the SRU got involve, they've done their part and its time they got back to the business of keeping the peace.

"I know we all want our peace and quiet back so I'll get straight to the point. Do with it what you please," Greg Parker played the recording. And the voice of the Family Lawyer couldn't be mistaken.

"You stupid idiot! Two dozen of you couldn't take down two men….. Bullshit…. I don't want to hear anymore excuses…. That bloody boy better be in your hands before this day is over or I will personally kill you. Am I supposed to be impressed that you know where they are? Idiot! Moron! Imbecile! Get that boy now."

There were so many swear words, Greg Parker was tempted to cover Little Alvin's ears.

When he finished playing the recording it took five men to separate Lab from the family lawyer.

"I'm denying any involvement," said the family lawyer in his Oxford educated tone. "You could have doctored that recording. You could have spliced my words together and came up with this lame evidence." Little Alvin's father has had enough, as it turned out, he was an expert martial artist himself. He decked the lawyer with his forehand and as he turned to leave with his wife and little boy he said, "Sue me."

But before they exited the door, he turned around again and said, "What are you waiting for?" to Lab and Hawk. And they lived happily ever after.


	13. All I Ever Want to be Is Happy

Note: This chapter can be distressing to some people; although others may not really care. To be on the safe side, I would like to ask everyone to be seated before attempting to read it. Please do not be drinking anything hot that could cause scalding or eating candies that could cause choking. Just don't do anything but read. Please bear in mind that I love Liley and Moppet as much as you guys do. I won't say too much more.

If I do this correctly, you'd be feeling everything Spike felt. If you don't, then I failed as a story-teller.

Please let me know either way.

Enjoy the ride.

**All I Ever Wanted to be Is Happy**

Spike was finished for the day but he was too excited to sleep, he has made up his mind. The fog has lifted from his brain. Tomorrow, he would talk to Win. _Tomorrow_. He tossed and turned in bed. His mind had so many things going around inside it, so he admitted defeat when he saw the time, 3:00 am_. Ah, I have to be up again at five anyway._ Today, he was on morning shift and Win had the day off. _I miss her so much and I miss my babies. _Finally, he admitted to himself this two residences situation wasn't good for them.

Two days ago on his way to work he noticed real estate agent putting up a 'for sale' sign out front. "Which one's for sale?" he asked the real estate agent. "Number 8." _Number 8. That adjoins mine._ And his bright brain sparked up.

"Just out of curiosity how much do they want for it?" the agent quoted a price that was less than he paid for his own apartment over a year ago. The global financial crisis has bitten hard and it's now a definite buyer's market. Then the agent added, "The owners are in a hurry to sell, they're moving North to be with their daughter and grandchildren. I'm sure if you can offer them a fast deal, they'd be happy to negotiate on the price."

He gave the agent a price, "Would you get back to me as soon as possible? You know, if they're agreeable to it?" and handed out him his business card. The agent was happy to get a quick offer and was on the phone to the seller immediately, before Spike could drive off, he had an answer. "It's a yes!"

They shook hands and exchanged details! Spike was beside himself with happiness. He was floating on air; jumping out of his skin happy. He was grinning from ear to ear and as a result everyone at SRU HQ was wary.

"Do you know why Spike is very happy today?" they were asking each other.

"Nope," and that made everyone suspicious.

"You reckon he's up to no good?" Poor Spike has gained such an unwanted and in his view unwarranted reputation as a joker. When all the awhile all he could think of was Win and Liley and Moppet and them being together in one place.

He kept telling himself over and over again, "All I ever wanted to be is happy." That was two days ago, when he met the Boss about the cell phone recording. Even then he wanted to tell Win but he needed to be sure that the papers were done. He didn't want to jump the gun and tell Win the news before he had it in the bag. It didn't occur to him to ask Win if this was what she wanted. How could she possibly not want this? He just assumed it's going to be fine.

Yesterday, the contract was drafted and he's taken it to his attorney who said it was fine. Today he'd see Win to tell her the good news. He called and spoke to her briefly. She'd be at the park with Liley and Moppet for around the time he's finishing work so they agreed to meet at the park.

Through the day he wouldn't wipe the smile off his face. He remembered the day he first noticed her; the day she went out with that Richard guy and he felt really bad; the day he fought for his life so that he could be happy with her and be with the people he loved; the day they saw the movie 'An Affair to Remember' at his apartment; the day he introduced her to his Mom via Skype; and the day they adopted Moppet.

It was a day consumed by daydreaming that Ed Lane had to rouse on him a couple of times, "Spike, focus." The Fearless Leader had every right to be sharp with him because his eyes were glazing over with dreamy clouds and they're in the business of keeping the peace. Ed should be credited for not whacking him on the head with a wooden spoon, any other team leader would have.

At the end of the day, Ed called him over and asked why he was with the fairies. Spike was so beside himself with happiness that he blurted out his secret. Ed hugged him, "Be happy, my friend." It was all Ed said and it practically brought tears to his eyes.

The day was over and he's now at the park. He parked his car across the street; it was all the available spot left. He could see them playing and it brought a dimpled smile on his face. He was about to cross the street when the wind changed direction. The wind drift carried his scent and Moppet sniffed it, her little brain went, "Daddy." And before Win could stop her she had bolted towards the street. Win tried her best to catch up to her, and just missed the end of her chain. Just then a car turned. Spike's brain immediately started doing mathematical calculation on speed and velocity and distance and impact and he thought_, My God it's going to take her. _

Win's brain didn't do any calculations, she was just all maternal and she dashed across the road in pursuit of Moppet, _Oh my God, it's going take them both._

His and Win's body chemical composition changed with the fear and anxiety that has now enveloped their being, the wind drift carried this fear in the air and Liley sensed it. Smelt it. Poor Liley started to whimper and she emitted a very frightened howl.

_God, all I ever wanted is to be happy._ And now this! Spike's brain was going into meltdown, he looked to his right and saw the afternoon sun just on the horizon, and he knew the sun's glare would be just at the driver's eyes and he couldn't be able to see Moppet.

He's felt his heart go into seizure, and his brain into spasm, he saw Liley made a slight move and he's screamed, "Noooooo. Noooooo." He was freaked out! "Nooooo."

And Win, she was desperate! _This can't be happening!_ "Moppet, come back."

Next chapter coming soon…..


	14. Breath of Fresh Air, Breath of Life

**Breath of Fresh Air, Breath of Life**

Spike as a matter of principle didn't carry gun so there he had nothing to shoot the tires with. He estimated the car to be going at 40 mph as it turned the corner towards Moppet. Based on the distance, it would be just a shade under five seconds till Moppet was under the car's tire. He was panicked and screaming his lungs out, "Nooooo" at the same time his brain processor was thinking, his eyes looking for a solution. _My car._ He jumped back in. It started as soon as he twisted the ignition, one second. He hit the accelerator for a soft impact, two seconds. He kissed the other car as it continued to move forward, three seconds. The other driver's self-preservation instincts kicked in as soon as the cars kissed and hit the brake, four seconds.

Spike sat in his car for a second, expelled a deep breath. A breath of life. Of hope. If he was right, Moppet should be under the SUV but NOT under the wheel. He was unnerved by the thought of what he might find under the car but he had no choice. He got out of his car at the same time the other driver did who was furious with him, "What were you thinking?" But was momentarily silenced when Spike dropped on his hands and knees, _What the…?_

The other driver was stunned when Spike came back up with, _what's that a three legged dog? _The canine, a golden retriever was wagging its tail and slobbering all over the man who kissed his car. "Unbelievable."

Win, on the other hand, had stopped on her track as the two cars collided softly. Had she not stopped in time, the SUV would have collected her and then it would have been a very sad day indeed.

The other driver approached, "Sorry, I didn't see…" Spike nodded, "I know the sun was in your eyes." The man looked at the damage and smiled, "I wished you wrecked it completely. I'd have liked it written off so I can get a new car from my insurance."

"My insurance company will fix the damage," Spike offered. "Don't worry about it, it's a small dent. It matches the one on the other side. I'm glad I was driving the SUV though, if my car had been lower to the ground, I hate to think what could have happened to …"

"Her," Spike finished the sentence, "Sorry again."

The driver drove off and that's when Spike noticed the sticker at the back of the SUV, RSPCA, the same organisation that helped save Liley. He looked out across the street, saw Win and Liley hugging. Poor Liley was distress. She's been through a lot, the brave one. He walked across with Moppet in his arms. They switched babies. Liley fell on his lap like a child would and it made it all the more crystal clear to him that they all have to be together.

They laid down on the soft grass and held hands. Spike could feel his chest heaving, it was a good thing he was in great physical condition or he would have had a coronary. It was taking a long time to quieten it down after the longest five-second of his life. Win was the same, she was quiet, thoughtful. "What are you thinking?"

"We could have lost Moppet. This can't go on Angel Boy. You can't be too soft on her, your softness will kill her one day," she said not accusingly, but truthfully. Something similar had happened when Liley was just three months old and that should have taught him a lesson. "You can't be the good parent who indulges them, you know; and I the one who always say 'no'."

Spike's expelled another deep breath, "It's like having real kids, huh. Ok, I'd be firmer from now on," then he lifted her hand and kissed it. "I have something to tell you," he said as he continued to stare at the slowly darkening sky above, the glow of the setting sun nearing the horizon.

He told her about Apartment 8 and how he arranged to buy it so they could be together. He talked and talked, which he did when he's excited, he noticed Win hasn't said a word. Not one word. He turned to look at her she was crying silent tears. It frightened him, "You don't… like… it?"

Win smiled, "I do. I just can't believe we've come this far." He wiped her tears and said, "Look they're waiting for us at the apartment. They want to show us the place." He got up and pulled Win up to him. They gathered the dogs and they went "home."

They left the canines at Spike's apartment, knocked next door and a gorgeous Italian couple let them in. The conversation flowed between the couple and Spike, like they've known each other for years, the truth was they've never even bumped into each other the entire 18 months Spike has lived in his apartment. Spike introduced Win and they immediately adored her, as if their blessings mattered at all. When they realised Win couldn't understand Italian, they switched to English.

"We want to leave you two alone, we're going out to dinner. Just show yourself out. Oh, we would like to be out of here in three days, would you consider renting it until the purchase is settled?" Mr Antonino asked. They looked at each other and they both said, "Yes."

The older Italian couple left. They stood at the centre of the living room, at once disbelieving and frightened and happy and giddy and seriously demented with each other. "I would like to move in with you," said Spike. Win laughed, "What do you mean?"

"My bedroom will become an office and I will move in with you. Oh, we can have two kitchens, yours and mine. Two bathrooms, yours and mine. And the second bedroom," pulling Win along, "we can reserved this for a nursery."

Win laughed some more, "You're crazy."

"And we can have a floating bed …"

Win protested, "Woo, hold on, hold on. Our bedroom. This side of the apartment will be feminine, not an electronic showroom."

"Fun," said Spike.

"Feminine."

"Fun."

"Feminine."

"Paper, scissors, rock."

"Ok, best of three."

"No, best of one. Just one."

Then all of a sudden, the neighbours were alarmed when two voices went "Yyyyessssss." And the other went, "Nnnnnnnnoooooo."

_I'll let you guess who won….. two more very delicious chapters to come. And I truly mean delicious._


	15. Eloquence

I don't own the songs "Thank you for Loving Me" and "Morning has Broken." They fitted the story just fine so I used them. I give credit to the songwriter, singer, producer and record companies that made them. The lyrics for "Morning has Broken" were obtained from the public domain and was used for a non-profit purpose only.

**Eloquence**

It was a very busy two weeks for Win and Spike. Every free time was spent packing, moving, and unpacking. The "improvements" would have to wait, right now it would be all about settling in; and getting their babies to "enjoy" being inside an apartment, although it wasn't so bad because mostly they went to the senior Camden's house for babysitting.

They couldn't demolish the walls that separated the two apartments because permission from the body corporate was required. So they enjoyed a little game of pretend sneaking around. It made for an extra spice of romance. When every box has been unpacked, and every piece of décor, pictures and knick knacks has been put in its place, it was time to celebrate. _Just the two of us, _he said. There was no need to share the moment with anyone. This was theirs to remember.

It was on a rare day off together. They shopped for the ingredients. He decided on the main menu and she on the dessert. They bought wine, flowers, candles and white linens for the table and sheets for their bed. It was the ordinariness of it all, the doing together, the being together that made it all so beautiful. It was the little moments like when they picked the tomatoes from the vegetable rack; when they chose which wine they wanted to share for the evening; when they made a decision to get 24 candles instead of 12.

They went home, he cooked in his kitchen and she baked desserts in hers. Tonight, dinner would be at her place and the canines would have to be content with each other's company in his. At 7:30 that night, he arrived with covered dishes of yummy food, it's a surprise, he said. And he walked in to the aroma of delicious freshly baked cakes.

He was dressed in a white chino top and a white cotton drawstring pants and white canvas pair of shoes. It was a balmy night after all, rare in Toronto, but it happened this one night. She laughed at his attire because she was wearing a white Indian-inspired tunic. "What's this?" she said, "Did you read my mind?" They kissed, excited about the first night of being "home together for the first time."

The music played and they ate their dinner on the balcony that could just fit two people at a squeeze. They had a lazy conversation and plenty of laughter. When dinner was over, he gallantly asked, "Dance with me?" She gave him her hands and he pulled her gently to slow dance to Bon Jovi's "Thank you for Loving Me."

Then it was morning, they woke up to a musical alarm, _how did he do that? _It was softly playing (Cat Stevens) Yusuf Islam's "Morning has Broken." They opened their eyes at nearly the same time. She sensed they were both staring at the ceiling. He searched for her hand under the sheet, gripped it gently and brought it to his lips to kiss. Neither of them said a word, it wasn't required. Words would ruin the moment because sometimes the most eloquent expression of love was silence.

They listened to the song and she wondered how he does these things so effortlessly.

Morning has broken, like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning

Praise for the springing fresh from the word

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven

Like the first dewfall, on the first grass

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden

Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning

Born of the one light, Eden saw play

Praise with elation, praise every morning

God's recreation of the new day

She recalled the kiss on her nose the night before, and his finger tracing the contours of her earlobe and a kiss on her lips. She would find later that day the pieces of their clothing cluttered on the floor, they created a trail from the living room where they started the love dance all the way near the bedroom door.

Author's note: I deliberately left out the menu, I would like to leave that to your imagination. I hope you liked this chapter.


	16. Memorial

**Memorial**

A month went by before the City of Toronto through the Mayor's Office received a "thank you" letter from Little Alvin. It was scrawled in his handwriting and signed in his new full legal name

_Albert Edward Alvin Gurung-Leon-Lewis-Bronson_

Back in London, in the sprawling family estate that has been with the family for many generations starting from the War of the Roses, a memorial was being built in memory of Thapa Gurung, Gurkha and Gramp to one wee boy. But there was more to the story.

One day father and son came hand in hand to inspect the progress of the construction of the memorial. In his left hand, Little Alvin held on to his Tonka Truck unbeknown to him, his father was also holding on to a Tonka Truck inside his pocket with his right hand. They observed the going-ons for a while til his father left him sitting on a bench to speak with the foreman about a certain aspect of the construction.

When his father re-joined him on the bench he took out the old Tonka Truck from his pocket and showed it to Little Alvin. "Ba'aa", father in Nepali, "gave this to me when I was your age. He had just joined our household. He was always there for me. I wished I had done more for him."

Little Alvin showed his father his own Tonka Truck, "Gramp gave this to me."

Father and son looked at the Tonka Trucks in their hands and realised for the first time that Thapa Gurung gave them much more than his life. He gave them a legacy of love, of loyalty and of continuity. It was on that day that the father decided to change their names. Little Alvin's dad became Sir Robert Albert Edward Gurung-Bronson.

Little Alvin acquired a fifth passport, he became a Kiwi. In his own mind, he was a Maori warrior and so insisted he must learn the Haka, the Maori war cry. Lab taught him the words and the war dance, eager to share his own legacy with the boy. So, early in the mornings, the wee boy could be heard practicing the Haka. He'd be going to New Zealand to meet Lab's family. He peppered Lab with questions eager to know as much as he could. "How come you have a big family?" he asked one day. The Big Man said, "That's just the Maori way, everyone's a cousin." And so the Little Boy said, "I am your son so they are my cousins, too." Lab said, "Sure they are." He was pleased because he always wanted a big family; little did he know how big it would be.

Hawk went to Dorset to paint his life away. He used his severance pay to purchase a land holding with a little cottage. He, however, has not been forgotten because being built next door to his cottage was a sizeable house so Little Alvin has a place when he came to stay. When the house was completed, Little Alvin would follow the summer around the world. He spent summer in New Zealand with Lab and his Maori cousins during the Northern winter. Then, move to Dorset when it's summer during the Southern winter.

The next summer back in Rotorua, Little Alvin who was now a big six-year old surveyed the land the Big Man has acquired to help young disadvantaged kids. The wee one, looking very cute walked with his little hands behind his back, thoughtfully told Lab, "You know what Daddy Lab you have everything a man could ever want."

Lab has gotten used to Little Alvin's wise observations but sometimes he still managed to get knocked off his feet, "Why'd you say that?"

"Well, you have a very cute son, that's me," pointing to himself. "You have a big land with lots of sheep and cow and you have a woman who love you very much," pointing out to Melanie, the woman who just arrived with young disadvantaged kids in tow. The woman he 'rejected' in favour of the Regiment many years ago. Lab was speechless.

The wee boy added his hands clutched behind his back again, "If you don't ask her to marry you, you'd be sorry for the rest of your life. She's been waiting a long time, you know."

Lab totally gobsmacked asked, "And how'd you know that?"

"'cause I asked her. If you don't ask, you never get an answer," said the little philosopher. "Come on! Get on with it." Not long after, Lab got on with it and Melanie became Mrs Leon. They sang "Pokarekare Ana" at the wedding reception.

A year later, they gathered together in the family estate near London to honour Thapa gurung, the memorial now complete. In the middle of the garden stood a magnificent statue of Ba'aa and Gramp, Gurkha and Hero. A statue made of stone of a man and, not one child but two, playing with a Tonka Truck under his feet. "He'd like that," the Little Boy whispered.

But more than that was a memorial trust fund in the name of the greatest warrior they've ever met. It would help countless people in the years to come, it was the least they could do.

_In memoriam, L'est we forget_


End file.
